An Unexpected Alliance
by RadcliffePotter
Summary: After Gandalf is lost in the Mines of Moria, the Fellowship must push on without him. When they gain an unexpected ally, the dynamics of the Fellowship will be changed forever. AU. Please R&R. Chapter 7 is finally online!
1. Leaving Lorien

_Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own the Lord of the Rings, I only borrow them for my own amusement and the amusement (I hope) of others and then return them mostly intact._

_For permission for reproduce elsewhere, please email me at meltownley at gmail dot com._

_Author's Note: Please note that this story is AU since I have increased the distances between places in Middle Earth and in the future chapters, this story will include original characters.__Please read and review: questions, comments, corrections, and flames are all welcome!_

After their fear and grief driven flight from the Mines of Moria, the safe havens of Lorien were a welcome sight to everyone in the Fellowship. Something was different about these richly-forested, Elven-protected borders. Time seemed to run sluggishly; even the air seemed somehow less oppressive. And it was these subtle differences which allowed each member of the Fellowship to rest and find some sort of solace. Their time in Lorien also provided a chance for everyone to come to terms, each in his own way, with his grief over Gandalf's death.

The Fellowship felt tense once again on their last day in Lorien at the prospect of leaving such a sense of safeness like most of them hadn't felt in years. At the thought of the enormity of his task and what lay ahead of him, the Ringbearer, Frodo Baggins, felt like he could scarcely breathe. He reflected upon how he missed the simple familiarity of Bag End or even the welcomed comfort of Rivendell.

Frodo was sitting by himself in a secluded corner of Lorien near a fountain lost in thought. He easily allowed the gentle falling of the water into the fountain's base to lure him into the last semblance of safety and protection that he was sure he would feel until his quest was completed.

Lost in thought with his knees drawn up to his chest protectively, Frodo contemplated one of his last real conversations with the wizard. As the Fellowship had been sitting, waiting for Gandalf to remember which of the two doors led the way out of Moria; Frodo had asked him about what Lorien was like.

Gandalf had been more than willing to answer Frodo's barrage of questions as he knew how apprehensive his good friend was about what was to come. "Lorien is indeed a welcome refuge Frodo," Gandalf had said kindly, placing his large hand reassuringly on Frodo's small shoulder. Though Frodo didn't know it, for a moment, Gandalf has reflected upon how small and childish Frodo must appear to the enemy, since the hobbit was but a little taller than a nine year old child of men.

_That however_, Gandalf had thought as a small smile played across his lips, _would be a fatal mistake on the part of the enemy._ There was a hidden strength in Frodo, of this he was sure. Frodo had proved this beyond a shadow of a doubt after his survival from his Morgul blade wounding on Weathertop.

Caught so long in thought about the one upon whom all their hopes laid, Gandalf had been startled out of his reverie by a small questioning voice. "Gandalf?" Frodo had asked, morning glory eyes upturned to Gandalf's wizened face.

"Gandalf?" he had repeated, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, my boy," he had responded warmly, "of course. Now where was I?"

"Lorien," said Frodo still eyeing Gandalf uncertainly.

"Ah yes," murmured Gandalf quietly. "Lorien is a most unusual place, Frodo. Though you spent most of your time in Rivendell in bed under Lord Elrond's careful ministrations, you undoubtedly were able to get a sense of what Elven cities are like."

Gandalf paused for a moment, trying to decide where to go next in his explanation. As he hesitated, Frodo pondered what Rivendell had been like. Things were (or at least they had been before Frodo's cousins Pippin and Merry arrived) quiet. Yet infused with that solitude was a sense of barely concealed feeling of strength.

Gandalf continued, startling Frodo out of his thoughts. "Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn are always most welcoming hosts and will welcome us freely," said Gandalf. Then he muttered, "Or at least I hope they will,"

When Frodo looked alarmed at this, Gandalf smiled and said, "Don't worry Frodo. They have never been less than friendly to me, but I have never dropped in on them quite so suddenly or with so many people accompanying me. However, I am sure that they will be as gracious as ever."

The wizard grew quiet for a moment as he struggled to remember which door led the way out of the dank and deadly Mines of Moria. "However," Gandalf muttered, almost to himself, "After a few days stay at Lorien, we still have one more refuge before we must face a long haul to Mordor,"

At that moment, Frodo had felt a small twinge of hope that the thought that there were still two more refuges for the Fellowship.

"Where is the second refuge, Gandalf?" Frodo remembered looking at many of the maps in Rivendell's expansive library and he could not recall seeing any other place of refuge (other than Minas Tirith - that is if the White City could be called a refuge) for a _long_ time after Lorien.

"Well," said Gandalf, leaning closer still as though he did not wish the others to hear what he was about to say, "I have a few friends that live but a few days from Lorien. They have never failed to give me shelter before when I needed it, nor shall they fail to help now. She has always been most gracious…" Gandalf petered off as if lost deeply in thought.

"Who is it Gandalf? Where is it? When –" Gandalf chuckled quietly.

"Be still my dear boy. All of your questions will be answered in time. I have already spoken with Aragorn on the matter and we will deal with it when the time comes –" Gandalf stopped midsentence. "Ah! It's that one!" he said, pointing at the left doorway.

"He's remembered!" Merry said happily, jumping up.

"No," reflected Gandalf, "but the air smells less foul down here. When in doubt Meriadoc, always follow your nose,"

Frodo was startled from his recollections by a quiet voice.

"Frodo."

He heard the voice, yet he could not tear himself away from this lingering taste of Gandalf.

"Frodo." The voice came again. It was more insistent, its rich baritone slicing through the safe haven of Frodo's memories.

"Frodo!" The voice was more insistent, this time accompanied by a large hand on his shoulder. Frodo jerked in surprise as the hand was laid on his shoulder. He looked up. Aragorn.

Aragorn could see that Frodo was lost in thought and looking rather morose. "Frodo," he said yet again, this time administering a gentle squeeze on the shoulder at the same time.

"Aragorn," Frodo answered quietly. Aragorn gave a reassuring smile to the Ringbearer before speaking. "Frodo, it is time we were moving on from here."

He paused, looking at Frodo expectantly. And when he didn't move from his pensive, crouched position, Aragorn knew something was amiss. He knelt, taking Frodo's impossibly small hands in his. "What is wrong, Frodo?"

The endless blue eyes stared into steely grey. "I was just thinking about Gandalf." Frodo murmured quietly. He looked up at Aragorn, avoiding looking at his piercing eyes by instead staring at his stubble. "He told me that we had one refuge after this."

Aragorn nodded as he sat down next to Frodo. "He spoke of it to me. It is but a few days from here."

"What's it like?" Frodo asked hurriedly. _Ah._ The Ranger thought to himself. _So this is the reason for Frodo's increased solitude – a fear if the future…not that it was at all unusual, considering that which lay ahead of them all, but most of all ahead of the Ringbearer._

He paused only a moment to think this before truthfully answering, "I don't know." When Frodo looked worriedly at him he said, "I have never been there before, nor even, in fact, even knew it existed. Apparently, the friends of Gandalf live but a few days from here. He swore to me that they would give us a place to stay, that we need only say that we are friends of Gandalf."

Piercing blue finally sought grey. "He spoke to this to you ahead of time? Aragorn, do you think –" He paused torn. It was so hard to ask the question he was dying to ask, "Do you think he knew?"

"You mean he knew he was going to die?" asked Aragorn, startled by the hobbit's perceptiveness, though he knew he should not be. Aragorn gave a small sigh before answering. "I do not know. Gandalf always did seem to have some kind of foresight and a knowledge of things he should not have known. However, I do not think he was positive that he would die, rather like he had a strange sense that it was something that would most likely come to pass,"

Frodo nodded silently and stood up. Aragorn did likewise. "Come," he said, putting a warm hand comfortingly on Frodo's back. "It is time we were leaving."


	2. A Stranger

_Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own the Lord of the Rings, I only borrow them for my own amusement and the amusement (I hope) of others and then return them mostly intact._

_For permission for reproduce elsewhere, please email me at meltownley at gmail dot com._

_Author's Note: This story is AU and contains several OCs (some already here and some to come). Many, many thanks to **Ladyhawke Legend** my excellent beta and good friend. Please read and review: questions, comments, corrections, and flames are all welcome!_

_Chapter Summary: The Fellowship, after leaving Lorien, the Fellowship comes in contact with their new guide, who leads them to the last refuge before the long haul to Mordor._

For a while, the Fellowship's canoe trek was taken in stunned silence, each lost in their own thoughts of Lothlorien, their minds upon the gift that each was given by Lady Galadriel. "To you Frodo Baggins, we give you the Light of Earendil, our most beloved star. May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights have gone out," Frodo recalled her voice, the words soft and echoing in his head as they had canoed away, and he pondered upon their meaning.

Frodo was quite certain that Mordor would be a dark place, for how could it not be? After all, it was called, "The Black Lands", and it was the _Dark_ Lord Sauron's home – so with all those illusions to darkness, how could the place itself _not_ be dark? He pondered over the usage of those phrases in silence. _Will it really be so dark that I need a light just to find my way? How will we get anywhere if it is so dark that we need a light just to find our footing? At least Mount Doom should provide some light with all its fires,_ he thought dejectedly.

Apparently, his stormy expression must have been visible since he was startled out of his reverie by a large hand descending down upon his back. Frodo jerked at the unexpected motion, startling Sam; who was sensitive to even the slightest of upsets in the boat's equilibrium, since he did not know how to swim. Looking over to Frodo, Sam quickly took in his master's dour expression and his tight posture and knew something was amiss. "Mister Frodo?" he asked uncertainly.

"I'm fine, Sam." Frodo said automatically.

He looked up to find Aragorn looking kindly at him, the man's large, careworn hand still resting comfortingly on the Hobbit's back. Frodo said nothing and averted his eyes, hoping that the Ranger would leave the conversation at that, but his hopes were quickly dashed when Aragorn gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and quietly said, "Frodo?"

The Ringbearer sighed, and then snapped, "Why can't anyone just let something drop? I said I was fine, which obviously means I'm fine. Honestly, if all of you disbelieve everything I say and totally mistrust everything I do, then why don't you just take the Ring and be done with it so that someone whom you all deem trustworthy enough can have it!"

Sam looked absolutely shocked. He uttered a small and disbelieving, "Mister Frodo!" But Aragorn, however, did not seem to take offense. He knelt down in the boat to Frodo's level and gazed at him with concerned, grey eyes.

"My friend," he said quietly and with such conviction that Frodo felt ashamed of himself, "I am only concerned for your well being. You carry a heavy burden, and we cannot help you bear that weight unless you allow us to give you support. I ask because I care about you."

Frodo attempted to swallow the large lump in his throat, but found he could not. His face burning with shame, he again tried again to swallow with little luck. He turned away. _They were only concerned about me and here I am snapping at them like an irritable and crotchety old gammer. Why, if Gandalf were here, he –_ The thought abruptly stopped, and the lump increased as Frodo's eyes began to water. No; he would not cry - he simply would not.

Aragorn's large hand found Frodo's chin and guided it back towards him so that he was forced to look into the Man's kind, grey eyes. Aragorn could see the tears welling and was unsure whether or not the cause was his recent outburst or the raw upwellings of grief for Gandalf; either way, it did not matter. Aragorn did the only thing he could think of. He reached over and pulled Frodo into an embrace.

Seeing that Aragorn was otherwise occupied, Sam valiantly took up the canoeing of the boat for the moment. Despite the fact that he was not very good at paddling, and was in general, absolutely terrified of falling overboard, Sam did his best to keep up with the canoes of Legolas and Boromir. Fortunately for Sam, the others had slowed their canoes a little, realizing that something significant was going on in the third canoe.

Frodo hugged Aragorn as tightly as he would have hugged Bilbo, had the dear old Hobbit been there. Aragorn could feel silent, yet wracking sobs coming from the Ringbearer. And while it was painful to feel and to witness; the healer in Aragorn knew that a release like this had been far too long in coming and that Frodo would be the better for it later.

Frodo choked out quietly, "I'm so sorry Sam…Aragorn. You only meant to help me, but I just kept thinking – about everything and about what lies ahead and I –". He couldn't finish. It seemed that words could not adequately describe just what terrible things he imagined lay ahead or why he was feeling so particularly miserable today. But apparently those words were not necessary.

Sam stopped paddling long enough to reach over and reassuringly pat his master's back. "Here now, Mister Frodo, there's no need to go thinkin' about stuff like that. We'll get to what lies ahead when we get there and no sooner. Make no mistake, sir. There's no point broodin' over things like that since you'll only get ya'self all worked up. When we gets to it, we gets to it, and then we'll worry about it. But _not_ before then, Mister Frodo."

Aragorn felt Frodo's vice-like grip loosen, and Frodo quieted at Sam's calming touch and quiet words. Sam continued, "Besides, sir, yer far better off than me right now," Frodo looked up, his face red and tear streaked, but looking interested.

"I am Sam? And how exactly did you come to that?" Sam flushed scarlet at all the attention from both Aragorn and Frodo, and said rather shyly now, "Well, sir, bein' in all this water and such, at least you can swim. Not like me! One good gust and I'll topple over the edge!"

The look on Sam's face combined with the rather amusing mental picture now forming in Frodo's mind, he couldn't help but laugh. It was a loud laugh and full of heart. While Sam was slightly insulted at his master laughing at his possible misfortune, soon he found that the sound of his master's laughter, unused for so long, brought a smile to his face and drove away any thought of insult.

Aragorn couldn't help but smile as well. While the rest of the Fellowship, save Legolas, whose keen ears and eyes had taken in the whole event, had no idea what was _really_ going on in their boat, but they were also lightened to hear their friend's laughter. Frodo laughed so hard that he had to clasp his sides and he choked out with mirth in his gaze, "My dear Sam, you always know just how to make me feel better!"

Sam flushed scarlet once again, though he looked very pleased with himself indeed and muttered something about it being "just plain Hobbit sense". Aragorn patted Sam on the back. Their eyes met and the Ranger thanked the Gardener wordlessly.

Now feeling substantially better than he had before, Frodo gently uncurled Sam's rigid, nervous fingers from the Elven wood paddle and took over the paddling. Sam relaxed – at least, he relaxed as much as he could since that he was on the water and well aware that his turn to paddle would be coming up soon.

The next time that Sam was nervously paddling, Frodo fingered the cool lump of glass in his vest pocket and wondered absently how much longer they would have to canoe for and where exactly they were. But, Frodo had unerring confidence in Aragorn's navigational skills, since Aragorn had been a Ranger almost as long as Frodo had been alive.

The next few days passed uneventfully. Their days were filled with quiet canoeing, whispered conversations, and a lingering sense of being watched. Though Pippin was quite certain that he did not like to be confined to the boat, the lands they traveled through seemed dark and forbidding. Like the kind one could expect to find in one of Bilbo's many tales. It was because of this fact that he was more tolerant and patient than he might usually have been. The whole company therefore, especially Pippin (who had grown quite restless from so much sitting still and quiet) and Sam (who firmly believed that hobbits and water were "just unnatural"), were relieved when Aragorn informed them that they would now be traveling over land.

Well, perhaps not the whole company was happy they were traveling over land. Legolas was quiet and pensive, more so than usual, and more than once Frodo had heard him warning Aragorn that the dangers on their side of the river were growing and that it would be unwise to stay for long.

"Aragorn," the hobbit had heard the elf whisper, long after the hobbit should have been asleep, "we should not tarry here any longer than necessary." The elf's golden hair swayed gently in the wind. His keen eyes darted around; piercing alertly through the darkness, and Frodo could tell that he was listening intently. In fact, Frodo would not have been surprised if the elf's ears had actually swiveled around to listen to the nearest sound like a cat's ears.

The Ranger had whispered back, "I am aware of this, my old friend. According to what Gandalf told me, we are very near to our promised refuge." At that point he had clasped Legolas' shoulder and an unspoken agreement to move early and fast the next day was conveyed, though Frodo did not know that at the time.

Frodo had smiled at the thought of their refuge being close and snuggled deeper into his bedroll. The next morning, the company was roused early as the feeling of Legolas' unease had spread to the rest of the Fellowship, leaving everyone anxious and antsy to get moving again.

The company's movement was swift and silent. Everyone was feeling on edge and stuck closer to each other more than was usual. Merry and Pippin were practically trodding on each other's feet, they were so close to each other. Gimli held his axe at the ready and so tightly that Merry privately thought it was a wonder that his fingers didn't fall off.

Just steps after the Fellowship had ascended a small hill and passed a strangely shaped chunk of rock that was easily as tall as two Aragorns put together, Aragorn halted the group abruptly.

"It should be around here," he murmured.

"Beggin' your pardon Mr. Aragorn, sir, but what are we supposed ta be doin' now?" came Samwise Gamgee's small, polite voice. Aragorn turned, smiled at Sam kindly, and then addressed the company as a whole.

"Gandalf said that his friends would simply know we were here. He instructed me to bring the Fellowship here, past this rock –," he gestured at the oddly shaped, very tall, white, and thoroughly moss covered boulder behind them all, "– and then wait. When someone approached, presumably – someone young and female – we were to say that we are friends of Gandalf and shelter would be given."

Boromir snorted and raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Just wait around hoping for shelter?" He then laughed harshly. "Shelter for all eight of us – from a girl, no less it seems? This is folly. We should press on toward Minas Tirith. Once we are there, my father will treat us lavishly and give us the respect we deserve. Especially," he said, eyes shining with a primal hunger, "for someone as important as the Ringbearer."

Frodo shivered at the thought. More and more, he could tell that Boromir was succumbing to the siren call of the Ring.

"No, Boromir," said Legolas harshly. "We should take advantage of this respite while we have it. Let us worry about where we should be going next when the time comes; that time is not now. The Fellowship is weary, and a rest would do us all well."

Boromir scowled and opened his mouth to rebut Legolas' statement, but was interrupted by Pippin's awed voice. "Look!" he said pointing past them to a few feet away…


	3. New Friends and Opinions

**New Friends and Opinions**

**Sadly, I do not own the Lord of the Rings, I only borrow the material for my own amusement and the amusement (I hope) of others, and then return it mostly intact. *grins* For permission for reproduce elsewhere, please email me at meltownley at gmail dot coom. This story is AU. Many, many thanks to Ladyhawke Legend, my excellent beta and good friend. Please read and review: questions, comments, corrections, and flames are all welcome! **

**Chapter Summary: The Fellowship finally meets their new ally – and everyone thinks about whether or not they trust her.**

A girl with slightly shorter than shoulder length, reddish brown hair and watchful, gray eye stood quietly scrutinizing the Fellowship. The Hobbits identified with her immediately, since she was both barefoot (though her feet bore no hair) and rather short compared to the men of the Fellowship. A brown leather sword scabbard dangled from her waist, while a tan quiver of arrows was slung lazily across her back. Her short, tight, forest green top revealed tan, well-muscled arms. The tightness of the shirt revealed at a flat stomach and a large, well-defined bosom. For a moment, Frodo found himself unexpectedly contemplating that even one of her breasts would be more than a handful for a Hobbit hand. Her forest green, knee-length breeches revealed tan and well-muscled legs connected to rather large, dirty, and hairless feet. Her tan bow with a nocked arrow was clutched tightly in her hand; her white knuckled grip was the only indication that she saw the Fellowship as any kind of threat.

"Rarrgh!" Gimli gave an inarticulate cry of rage and leapt forward, startled by her sudden presence into thinking she was an enemy. His fingers flew to his beloved axe. "No, Gimli!" Legolas yelled in response, as his slender fingers firmly grabbed Gimli's armor-clad shoulder and hauled the stout dwarf back.

"Gimli!" Aragorn growled angrily, looking sidelong at the Dwarf. What if Gimli scared her away? The girl, however, did not budge at Gimli's outburst; rather she looked vaguely amused and surprised. Aragorn slowly stepped forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "We are friends of Gandalf and are in dire need of shelter."

There was a moment of silence before the girl stepped forward and said, "Welcome, friends of Gandalf. You are weary from your journey. Please, come and enjoy our hospitality." She came closer still until she was standing directly in front of Boromir. Her gray eyes quietly scrutinized the man in front of her. "Now that I am here Boromir, do I seem like such folly? You should have more faith in Gandalf, for he is wise and sees much."

She turned away with an unreadable look written on her face, one that Frodo thought was a strange mix of amusement and disgust at Boromir. "Come Fellowship, for you are weary and your task is filled with much toil." She made to turn, but then paused and approached Gimli. she said with a grin, "Gimli, Master Dwarf, you are an admirable warrior. I should hate to find myself on the wrong end of your axe! Now, all please come with me." With a sweeping gesture of her hand, she turned and began walking away.

"How can she trust us so readily?" Boromir whispered to Aragorn. Legolas opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the girl's voice from up ahead.

"I trust you so readily because I trust Gandalf implicitly. He has never yet steered me wrong, and I do not believe he would do so now by sending all of you to me. Things are changing in this world. There are many things that are happening. Only some of which I understand. I must do what I can to fulfill my part in these comings. Now come, it is not wise for any of us, especially you Ringbearer, to tarry overly long."

She turned back and gazed at Frodo, her gray eyes roaming over him calmly. Unconsciously, Frodo's right hand snaked up to his chest where the Ring lay. For a moment she stood and Frodo could hear the Ring call to her. _Young one,_ It sang to her in an almost loving voice, _you are different than the pathetic Halfling that currently bears me. All you need do is slit his small throat and take me for yourself! Together we could rule Middle Earth! They all laughed at you, scorned you as a monster, tried to kill you. You were abandoned by all – but no more. With me they would bow down to you as their queen!_

She continued to stand quietly, listening to the Ring's call and then, most surprisingly, in the similar small voice only Frodo could hear, she responded. _No, I have never needed you before, dark one. True, I have been mistreated, but things will soon change. I did not need you then and I do not need you now. Let me be!_

She smiled, the Ring quieted, and Frodo felt at ease. Never before had anyone, save Aragorn, so easily and firmly rejected the Ring. Frodo smiled, and she smiled back. Frodo's mind was made up – he could trust her. And, he thought, somewhat dreamily, it did help that she was very attractive. She gestured with her hand and the company trudged along behind her. But what was this business about being scorned as a monster? True, she was a bit unusual from most women what with her bare feet and more manly clothing, but a monster? He stared at the guide ahead of them. He could see nothing in her that would qualify her as such.

While he wanted to say or do something, to get to the bottom of this mystery, at the moment, his only thoughts were of reaching somewhere safe and sleeping. His mind was overly full at the moment for too much contemplation.

They walked perhaps ten minutes through the dense wood, weaving in and out of the trees, while each member of the Fellowship pondered silently their new guide. Frodo already trusted her – she had, after all, in the short time they had been together, completely rebuked the Ring.

Sam could tell that something had happened with his Master, and while he wasn't sure what it was, Frodo did seem markedly more cheerful than he did before. He watched as a small smile played around Frodo's lips and realized that the smile had only appeared after the girl did. Yes, Sam thought as he smiled to himself, he could trust this girl because Frodo did or because she seemed to make Frodo happy.

Pippin, meanwhile, was completely smitten with their new guide. There certainly weren't any Hobbit lasses like her! He wondered who the "others" were that she lived with and fervently hoped that she wasn't betrothed. He gave a loud and lusty sign while a silly smile pasted itself on his face.

Merry, though he was attracted to this newcomer, refused to let his amorous urges influence his opinion of their guide. He glanced at his companions. Pippin had a rather goofy, unfocused look on his face and for once was not complaining about being hungry. (_Is that even possible?_ Pippin wondered.) Though Sam was quiet as usual, Merry could definitely tell that he was pleased about something.

For a moment, Merry couldn't understand what reason Sam could have to be pleased, but then he noticed that Sam kept glancing at Frodo. Looking himself at his oldest cousin, Merry was startled to see that for the first time since Gandalf's fall, Frodo was actually smiling. Not a forced smile, but a genuine smile of happiness. After mentally taking inventory of the other Hobbits, Merry decided that this girl must not be _too_ much trouble.

Gimli walked along behind the Hobbits, and though no one could see it, he was blushing fiercely underneath his beard. He had initially thought that the small rustling he had heard in the bushes was an Orc. He had found it highly embarrassing that she had not been scared by his fierce growl and menacing axe. She had, however, complemented his skills as a warrior and given his arm a pat of respect. _This one is worth respecting. Certainly much more worthy of my respect than that pointy-eared Elf!_

Legolas walked in silence next to his stout Dwarven companion and conversed with the earth around him. Legolas knew that one of the best ways to learn about the character of a man was to see the opinion of the earth. He quietly asked the trees about their guide. The trees' response was immediate and unanimous. _She has always been good to us. She and her kin have always given thanks for everything they have received from us and from the animals of the region. She protects those who cannot protect themselves and keeps her abilities under control whenever it is physically possible. You would do well to trust her guidance. She takes you only to a safe place_.

Legolas smiled. The trees were usually so passive about things as insignificant as the affairs of Men, and yet this girl had obviously made quite an impact on them. She most certainly had to be a friend…and yet, what was this about "abilities"? The elf pondered silently the words the trees had said. He could make nothing out of them. He tried reaching out to the trees once again, yet they refused to elaborate. _She protects us and in turn, we shall protect her. Her secret shall not be told._


	4. Hospitality and Mysteries

**Hospitality and Mysteries**

_Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR. I just lovingly play with our heroes and then return them._

_For permission to reproduce, please email meltownley at gmail dot com._

_Author's Note: I have done my best to make this chapter free of errors. However my beta has apparently dropped out of fanfiction and back into real life for a bit, so this chapter is unbetaed. My apologies for any errors you might find. The other chapters of this story have been slightly corrected for flow and spelling errors._

_Also, apologies if this chapter seems a bit slow – I'm setting the scene for future chapters here. And further apologies for the fact that it's literally been four or five YEARS since this story has been updated. Real life and other fandoms got in the way of my muse. But don't worry, I've written several chapters at once that I'll be doling out. :)_

Their guide stopped walking. She gave a short whistle like a bird and a ladder dropped from above. She stood next to it and said, "Whomever feels comfortable using this ladder may do so. If not, we have other ways to bring you to where we live." Seeing the armor of Gimli and the packs that they all carried, she seemed to think for a moment. She whistled again. There was a rustling through the trees and a wooden platform, secured by thick ropes, was slowly lowered to the ground.

She gestured that some of her guests should step onto the platform. "We can also lift you up this way if it is easier with your packs and your armor. Perhaps we can send the Hobbits first and yourself, Master Dwarf."

Legolas smiled at her consideration for their heavy packs and armor before saying, "I am content to use your ladder." With this, he disappeared up the ladder with the skill that only a Elf could display at climbing. The four Hobbits walked onto the platform looking uncertain. Aragorn quietly thanked her and disappeared up the ladder after Legolas. Not wanting to look a fool compared to the other men, Boromir too took the ladder, though not before casting a dark glance at their guide.

The girl gestured Gimli onto the platform as well and then stepped off. "Aren'ya coming with us?" Sam asked, his voice tinged with worry.

She grinned, "Of course I am, but I should not wish to put too many of us on the platform at once. I shall take the ladder and meet you at the top." She whistled again and the platform began to slowly move upwards, the Hobbits looking slightly anxious.

Though he disliked heights after the high flets of Lothlorien, Frodo couldn't help but wonder how these people had worked out such a system. In less than a minute, they were at the lowest branches of the trees.

As the Hobbits reached the top, they could make out a series of flets connected by rope bridge walkways that were hidden by foliage and tree branches. In fact, they had been practically invisible from below. Had one not known these platforms were here, Frodo doubted that they would be noticed. The trees were old and large. The felt he could see was the size of a large room – complete with some furniture and short walls whose tops would reach chest height on a human. The roof of this hanging fort was the foliage of the trees, which allowed sunlight to filter through and naturally light their spaces.

Frodo couldn't help but look around in awe. Though similar to Lothlorien, he couldn't help but be struck by the humanness of this particular dwelling. Lothlorien felt almost otherworldly – its structures seemed to float almost effortlessly in the air. Yet it was clear here that much hard work and toil had gone into the creation of this tree top residence. He could see that the supports for the floors had been literally cut into the old trees and secured with many support boards. The flooring was thick, sturdy, and sanded until it was soft.

Already standing on what seemed to be the main platform were Aragorn, Boromir, Legolas, their female guide, and an unknown male. The guide and the unknown male were using a strange reel-like device to pull their platform up to the top. With a slight bump, the Hobbits reached the main level and stepped off. The girl, with help from the boy, tied off the ropes attached to the platform, securely keeping it in its spot.

"My friends," the girl said, gesturing them to seats around the main platform "Please, rest." There were soft furs in piles on the floor, handmade wooden chairs, and a few short, soft, round seats that seemed to be made of rough cloth stuffed stiff with hay.

To one side was a wood table and some more chairs, plus four, large wooden boxes, with thick clothes over the top. Everyone settled into seats as their guide announced, "We are sure you are tired and in need of great rest, but please, allow us to introduce ourselves first."

As everyone settled in, Aragorn said, "Thank you for sheltering us with such short notice."

"Of course," she said, "Your quest impacts us all. How could we do otherwise?" Settling herself into a chair, she began, "My name is Arya." Her male companion stepped forward and said, "I am Beorn." Beorn was a head taller than Arya. With sandy brown hair, a slim, somewhat muscular body, and similar forest green clothes, Beorn looked as though he could be related to Arya.

Aragorn inclined his head in greeting and said, "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas of the Woodland realm."

Arya nodded and said, "I am well aware of who you are. Gandalf sent word ahead of your arrival." She approached the Hobbits, who had settled themselves as a group in the warm furs. Looking at each in turn, she said, "Peregrin Took, Meriadoc Brandybuck, Samwise Gamgee, and," she paused, her eyes focusing intently on Frodo, "our ringbearer, Frodo Baggins."

For a moment she considered the group before her and she and Beorn exchanged some glances which seemed to contain unspoken communication. Beorn nodded and moved off across a rope bridge on the other side of the platform to another flet that was so well camouflaged that it could be scarcely seen through the dense foliage. Settling herself back onto the wooden chair, Arya continued, looking serious, "You are welcome to remain here as long as you need, Fellowship. However, we would not recommend that you stay overly long. There have been movements in our forest. The shadows are aware that you are here and they know what you bring."

"We do not plan to stay long," Aragorn said, "we are aware of the movements of which you speak."

Arya nodded and said, "Now that we have been introduced, get your rest while we prepare some food for you. Though there are walls around these platforms, please be mindful. We do not wish any unfortunate accidents to happen. Beorn has gone to prepare your rooms for you. We do not have much space here, so we will have to put more than one of you in each room.

"What rooms?" Pippin asked, looking bewildered.

Arya laughed and said, "We call each flet here a 'room' for ease of discussion around strangers. There are two flets that function as bedrooms. This main flet is where we eat, store our supplies, and our weapons. There is one more that functions as a bathroom." She took off her quiver of arrows, and her long sword, leaving only a small sword near her waist and stored the weapons in one of the crates near the table.

"Please, let me direct you to your rooms. Hobbits, would you please come with me?" The Hobbits gained their feet and gathered in front of Arya.

Arya looked at the remainder of the Fellowship and said, "I shall be back very shortly to show you to your rooms." The men nodded.

Leading the Hobbits to the same rope bridge on the opposite end of the platform that Beorn had crossed minutes earlier, she said, "I shall show you to your room." Sam froze at the edge of the platform, afraid to cross the bridge.

Arya smiled and said, "Samwise, you need not be afraid. These bridges are securely built and the trees are strong. Heavier and larger men than yourself have crossed these bridges in full armor and they have not fallen through. Do not worry."

Bolstered a bit by her words, the Hobbits followed her across the short bridge onto another flet that was supported in the branches of a large, neighboring tree. About the size of the living room of Bag End, the platform had several small white mattresses. Plopping down onto one, Pippin realized that these too were handmade with rough cloth and filled with straw. "My apologies that your accommodations are not nicer," Arya said uncertainly. "Beorn and I do not often have guests, so our supplies are rather limited."

"This is wonderful," Merry said, honestly. "We've spent so long sleeping on the ground that anything beyond that is a welcome treat."

Arya smiled at him kindly and said, "I'm sure that in better circumstances, you are accustomed to soft pillows and thick blankets. Here, we keep our supplies tucked away for when we use them, since we cannot know if a wind or a storm will disturb them." She pointed towards wood crate, which was next to a small table. "Please store your belongings; they will be safest from wind and rain there."

From the a rope bridge at the opposite end of the flet, Beorn came, carrying a large stick. Arya smiled approvingly and said, "You gentlemen, please settle in. Sleep, if you wish. Beorn and I will set up your room so it will be ready for night time."

Beorn walked to the middle of the flet and towards a small, round hole, which had gone unnoticed by the Hobbits. He inserted the stick into the hole in the floor. Pippin stood looking at the stick, puzzled. "What's that for?" he asked.

Speaking for the first time, Beorn said simply, "Putting up the roof." Bending over the crate he pulled out what looked like a large, folded blanket. Walking towards one side of the flet, he reached over the side, seeming to hook the blanket on something. As Beorn tossed the blanket over the top of the stick and over to Arya, the Hobbits realized that it wasn't a blanket, but the same type of light material that was used for tent roofs. With a few deft moves that spoke of great practice and experience, Arya and Beorn attached the covering to several more hidden hooks on the outside. With the stick propping up the middle of the cover, the Hobbits found themselves inside what looked, at least to Pippin, like a giant tent with a rather fancy inside.

Arya gestured toward the crate and said, "When you wish to sleep, there are fur blankets in the crate. Please excuse us while we settle in your friends and prepare some dinner. If you follow that bridge," she pointed to the one Beorn had just come from, "you will find the bathroom. From there you can connect to the other bedroom and back to the main room."

Beorn placed his fist over his heart in what the Hobbits assumed was some gesture of loyalty and departed. Arya did the same, bending slightly at the waist, and averting her eyes for a moment. Before leaving she said, "If you have need of anything, just ask."


	5. Nighttime in the Forest

**Chapter 5: Nighttime in the Forest**

A short time later and everyone had been settled into their sleeping arrangements for the night. Beorn and Arya had set up similar, tent-like covers over all the other flets as the afternoon waned and had then set about preparing dinner. Most of the Fellowship had taken the opportunity for a bit of sleep, yet Frodo found he couldn't sleep. Despite his body being tired, this place was unfamiliar to him and he yearned to learn more about it, its creation, and about its inhabitants. Of course, it didn't hurt that a certain inhabitant was very attractive…Frodo blushed as he thought about Arya. She was so unlike the Hobbit lasses he knew. She was independent and kind.

Carefully untangling himself from his fur blankets, Frodo made his way to the rope bridge back to the main flet, hoping to see Arya. Peeking timidly through the roping holding the bridge together, Frodo found that he scarcely could see the forest floor through the foliage – though he knew it must be far, far below him.

Making the rest of his way across the bridge, Frodo saw Aragorn deep in conversation with Arya. She had set up a medium sized, metal, claw footed dish in the center of the flet. A small fire inside provided warmth. And underneath the mesh metal grate protecting the flet from rogue sparks, he could see a spit with what looked like potatoes cooking.

Though he didn't think he had made any noise, Arya looked up suddenly at him, smiled warmly, and said, "Frodo, please, join us." Aragorn gave a reassuring smile and Frodo joined them by the fire, sitting down on a hay-stuffed seat next to Arya.

"We were just discussing dinner," she said, with a smile. "A Hobbit's favorite subject, yes?" she ribbed him good naturedly, her eyes smiling as she did so. Frodo nodded, smiled back, and saw a small bucket at her feet. In her hands was some kind of root vegetable that she was peeling with a small knife. Beorn appeared from one of the other flets carrying a small wooden board and a knife – he had clearly cut up some small animal that had been recently caught. Fishing some more skewers from one of the crates, he speared all the meat and placed it under the grate and into the fire.

After a few minutes, the whole Fellowship had been roused and earthenware plates were passed around for dinner. Some sat at the table, some on the floor. Dinner was presented without frills – brown, crispy pieces of bread, roasted potatoes and other root vegetables seasoned lightly with some spices, some dried pieces of meat, some fresh caught meat (which Beorn said was deer), and some apples. Aragorn noticed that Beorn and Arya always helped themselves last, waiting a bit to always make sure there was enough food for their guests before eating themselves. When it seemed that everyone had eaten sufficiently, Arya and Beorn exchanged glances.

Arya stood and rummaged around in a crate, pulling out a small box which was carefully sealed. She opened it and inside were a small number of cookies. Pippin grinned from ear to ear. Sam seemed to sense that these were special and said, "Wherever didya get those?"

Arya simply said, "We travel a lot. On one of our last travels we were given these. We decided to save them for a special occasion. This seems special enough to me." Beorn nodded in agreement and the box was passed around.

Thoroughly sated and warm by the fire, Frodo found himself dozing off despite his best manners when he was snapped awake by Pippin asking, "What are you doing here in the middle of the forest?"

"This is where we live," said Beorn.

"But, why?" asked Pippin, looking perplexed as to why anyone should want to live in the trees. Not that the accommodations weren't very nice for what they were…but why live permanently in a tree house?

"Pippin!" shrilled Merry in disgust, cuffing his younger cousin about the head and looking angry at the thought that he would asking such a rude question.

"Ow! What?!" Pippin said, rubbing the back of his head. "It was just a question."

"Don't be mad, Merry," Arya said, "we aren't offended by the question. Beorn and I didn't always live here. We used to live to the east of Anduin, near the Misty Mountains."

"The Misty Mountains?" Frodo said, looking suddenly curious. "Bilbo was there with the Dwarves and –" His voice faltered for a second before he said, "with Gandalf."

Looking even more intrigued, Legolas picked up where Frodo left off. He glanced toward Beorn and said, "Your name is Beorn. Are you kin of Beorn, leader of the Beornings, who helped Thranduril defend his kingdom?"

The question, however, was interrupted by a bird call, similar Arya's bird call. Arya stood and walked to the edge of the platform where a small bird had appeared. She held out her hand and the bird flew over and sat on her palm. It lifted one leg and the Fellowship could see that there was a small piece of paper attached to its leg. She unrolled the strip of paper, set the bird down on the table, and pulled a handful of seeds from one of the crates. She left the seeds in front of the bird as a reward and then quickly read the message.

In the silence, Gimli said in an unintentionally loud voice, "Well, what does it say?" Arya handed the paper to Beorn, who had moved to stand beside her.

"Our eyes tell us that the enemy is moving. Their numbers are great," Beorn said.

"My friends," Arya said, "it would seem that you are not meant to stay past this night. We will help you find your way at first light in the morning. Until then, sleep."

She and Beorn headed towards the ladder. "But wait!" said Merry, "Where are you going?"

Arya smiled and said, "We are going to do what we can to delay the enemy's arrival."

"What you speak of is madness!" Boromir said, standing and looking incredulously at the two. "You think that the two of you can delay an army of Mordor?"

Beorn was already disappearing down the ladder. Arya smiled and said, "Boromir, there are many things which are possible in this world that seem, on the surface, impossible. Trust us."

She looked to Aragorn and said, "Aragorn, keep everyone up here for the night and rest. Pull the ladder up after we are down it. We will be back by first light to help you move onto the next part of your quest."

Unwilling to question their judgment and seem as rude as Boromir, Aragorn merely nodded. Arya again made the gesture of putting her fist to her heart and then vanished.

The night grew chill and the Fellowship found themselves grateful for the heavy fury blankets and the mattresses full of hay, for their beds were warm. Unable to sleep, Frodo took the rope bridge that Arya had said lead to the flet which served as a bathroom. There was a man sized, chest height, wooden wall in front of each rope ladder which served as a privacy screen to shield whoever might be using the bathroom. And behind the walls Frodo found a medium sized chamber pot. On the other side of the flet, there was a medium sized, ceramic basin filled with water for washing and next to the basin was a bench, where one could sit and wash themselves there if they chose to. In yet another wooden crate, this one much smaller, were some towels and some wrapped bars of soap. Feeling grateful for the little things like soap – which now seemed like huge luxuries – Frodo decided to take advantage of the opportunity.

Removing his shirt, but not the Ring, Frodo chose a fresh bar of soap and began lathering up his chest and arms with help from the water in the basin. Being a modest Hobbit, Frodo stopped frequently to listen and make sure no one else might be coming. He had only just finished washing his lower half and was putting his breeches back on when he was startled by a strange howl.

Hurriedly dressing, Frodo tried to figure out what he had just head. Almost in answer to the first, Frodo heard another howl and then a strange growling noise. It was almost like giant wolves were nearby in the forest. Though he had been feeling very relaxed after what had been his first bath in weeks, the sound of the howling and growling had shaken him.

Frodo knew he was safe up in the trees, but still…there was something about that noise that set him on edge. Frodo wanted to ask Aragorn what the sound might be. He figured that the Ranger might know. Yet Frodo knew that the Man might be sleeping and he certainly didn't intend to wake anyone over the fact that he had gotten a little spooked.

He walked back to the Hobbits' flet and buried himself back into the furs and the hay mattress. Though he thought sure he wouldn't sleep again that might, the warmth of the blankets and the cleanliness of his body soothed him to sleep.

After what felt like a _very_ short time later, Frodo felt himself being shaken awake by Sam. After some groggy minutes of collecting their packs together and returning all the bedding to its proper place, the Hobbits made their way to the main flet where the Men were already waiting.

Boromir looked almost angry as he said, "Well, where are they? It's nearly first light and there's been no sign of them."

Aragorn held up a placating hand to the other Man and said, "Our hosts assured us that they will be back. Trust them."

As though they could hear him, there was a slight rustling and Arya and Beorn climbed over the side and onto the main flet. Their faces and clothes were smudged with dirt – and both had a number of tiny scratches all over their arms and legs – almost as though they had gotten into a sticker bush. And Arya had a white cloth wrapped around the palm of her hand that was stained with a small amount of dark red – presumably blood.

"You're a mess!" Pippin said.

"Pippin!" Merry exclaimed, in disbelieving tones. Surely even his cousin would not be dumb enough to insult their hosts twice.

Yet Arya and Beorn did not seem upset at all. In fact, Arya grinned at them, her teeth bright white against the dirt on her face, and said, "I suppose we are a bit. Messy, that is. Come, we have bought us some time. But we must still move quickly."

"How did'ya even get up here?" Sam said in wonder.

Beorn smiled what seemed to be a rather mysterious smile and said, "We climbed."

Arya and Beorn exchanged glances and Beorn hopped over the side. After a minute, from down below, came a bird call. It wasn't the same as Arya's but it was clear to Frodo that it was a signal. Arya lowered down the ladder and instructed Aragorn to go first, followed by the Hobbits.

Boromir made sure that he wasn't the last to stay on the flet with Arya. He still didn't trust this strange girl – or for that matter, her friend. How Aragorn could so easily accept someone who was…admittedly rather strange, was a mystery to him.

With everyone else at the bottom, Arya hurried down the ladder. She gestured with one hand to the others and they moved swiftly away from the tree. With Beorn guarding the back and Arya eyeing the front, the group moved quickly and quietly. A large shape came out of the shadows nearby. Startled, Pippin grabbed tightly onto Arya's waist and gave an inarticulate shriek. A large, grey wolf with golden eyes appeared from out of the shadows. Yet rather than looking surprised, Arya smiled, gently detatched Pippin from her waist, and held out a hand. The wolf came and nuzzled against her hand with its nose. Another wolf materialized behind the first.

Looking down and directly at the wolves she said, "Renn, Sylveria, we must hurry. My friends, would you mind…?"

The wolf's head bobbed up and down once and the wolf sat on the ground. Looking at the Hobbits, Arya said, "I'm afraid we'll go faster this way. Hold on tight!" And she lifted the Hobbits one by one onto the wolves; Sam and Frodo on one wolf and Pippin and Merry on the other.

With a wave of her hand, the group was off, Arya, Beorn, and the wolves breaking into a run. Boromir, Aragorn, and Legolas took off behind them. With an audible groan, Gimli lurched after the rest.

Legolas could sense that something was there in the forest. With his Elven eyes, he knew there was not much time until they would meet up with their quarry.

Sam was clutching the course fur of the wolf he was riding on so tightly that it was a wonder that he didn't pull it out. For the first time, Sam thought their hosts slightly crazy. Riding on a wolf? Where did you ever come up with an idea like that?

Frodo could feel the tension in Sam's body as he gripped firmly around the stout gardener's middle. As strange a mount as a wolf might be, Frodo was extremely glad that they weren't being forced to run all this distance. He could never hope to keep up with a man sprinting…or even lightly jogging, for that matter. Looking over at his cousins, Frodo could see that Pippin was having the time of his life with small hands tangled into the wolf's hair and a huge smile on his face. Frodo was sure that he thought it was a grand ride – rather than a flight from a fast approaching enemy.

Frodo could feel their mounts slowing and hear the distant crashing of water as they reached the banks of the Anduin, near the Falls of Rauros. Stopping to catch their breath by the shores of the river, Arya and Beorn, who didn't seem to out of breath, helped the Hobbits down from the wolves. "We are ahead of them – for the moment," said Beorn, surveying the river. We now must make our way across the river to the other side."

"Well, how are we going to do that?" Pippin asked, looking skeptical. "We haven't got any boats and…Sam can't swim."

Sam scowled over at Pippin, not wanting to be reminded of the fact that he would soon need to cross a large body of water without knowing how to swim.

"Have faith, Sam!" Beorn grinned. "Do you really think we'd bring you all this far without a way to get across the river?"

He crooked a finger at the Hobbits and gestured that they should follow him. Also grinning, Arya followed. Exchanging puzzled looks, the others followed. Looking back and forth from the shore to into the forest several times, Beorn stopped beneath an old tree. He grinned and pointed up. All eyes followed his finger upwards. Twelve to fifteen feet above ground level, something was camouflaged within the branches of the tree.

Hand over hand, Beorn climbed up into the tree and disappeared in the foliage around the unknown object. "I'll lower it down to you!" Beorn said. Arya stood under the tree and gestured and Aragorn and Legolas should come over as well.

"It might be wise for the rest of you to step back," she said.

"Ready!" she called up to Beorn. With a bit of scraping, something large was lowered from the tree. Arya reached her hands up as high as she could, meeting the huge object. Understand their help was needed, Aragorn and Legolas lent a hand. Being shorter, Arya took the end and guided it to the ground while the Man and the Elf helped to slide the remainder of the object from the tree. With a wooden thud, something lay on the ground.

"It's a canoe!" exclaimed Pippin in surprise. Covered in a canvas stained the same colors as the trees around them and snugly nestled into the large branches of the old tree, the canoe had waited for their arrival, ready to use. Arya and Beorn worked together to pull the canvas off the canoe. Inside were several homemade packs.

Pippin's eyes widened. "Food?" he asked.

"Now is not the time for eating!" Merry exclaimed.

But Arya just laughed and said, "Yes, there's food in them and some other provisions – blankets, cloaks, water skins, weapons."

"However didya get the boat in the tree?" Sam asked, looking completely bewildered.

Beorn smiled and said simply, "Many hands make light work, Master Gamgee. Just ask your friend Gimli. One Dwarf may dig many years to make a mine, but the same work can be accomplished by a number working together in a short period of time."

Gimli nodded, smiling at their ingenuity.

"We haven't much time," Arya said. "Help us get the other one down too."

"The other one?" Merry asked, incredulously.

"You'll find, Master Meriadoc, that quite often people forget to look up. It's amazing what you can hide," Arya said, smiling.

As Aragorn and Legolas gathered round to help Arya and Beorn with the canoe in the next tree over, Merry, Pippin, Sam, and Gimli busied themselves pushing the first canoe down to the water's edge.

Frodo started walk towards the woods. "Mr. Frodo?" Sam questioned.

Feeling awkward, Frodo said, "I just need a…a moment." Being a modest Hobbit, he preferred to be left alone while taking care of his business. Sam understood what his master meant and went back to helping with the canoe.

"Don't wander too far," Aragorn cautioned.

Frodo nodded and walked away into the forest. Finding an area far enough away from the others that his business would be kept his own business, Frodo relieved himself. He was just buttoning his britches when he heard, not terribly far away, a sound. He turned to see Boromir, stalking through the trees, holding an armful of firewood.

"Why do you trust them?" Boromir asked suddenly, staring intently at Frodo. "Strangers. People whom you barely know. Who you trust only on the word of another. Why take the risk? There are other ways, Frodo. Other paths that we might take."

Fear slowly building in his heart, Frodo said, "I know what you would say. And it would seem like wisdom, but for the warning in my heart."

"Warning?" Boromir asked, looking genuinely confused, "Against what? We're all afraid, Frodo. But to let that fear drive us to destroy what hope we have – don't you see? It's madness!"

Standing resolute, despite the ever advancing approach of Boromir, Frodo stated, "There is _no_ other way."

Frodo could see a stormy expression crossing Boromir's face as he spat, "I ask only for the strength to defend my people!" Throwing his armful of firewood to the ground, Boromir's anger was practically radiating from him.

Calming himself for a moment, Boromir continued, "If you would but lend me the ring -"

"No!" Frodo yelled, backing away suddenly, realizing that Boromir was beyond his own control.

Looking genuinely angry at Frodo's reaction, Boromir spat, "Why do you recoil from me? I am no _thief_."

"You are not yourself." Frodo eyed the Man warily.

Frodo could feel the anger and hatred that rolled toward him as Boromir asked in a low, dangerous voice, "What chance do you think you have? They will find you. They will take the Ring. And you will BEG FOR DEATH BEFORE THE END!"

Frodo turned away, preparing to walk quickly back to the Fellowship.

"FOOL!" Boromir yelled, his voice echoing through the silent woods around them. Frodo found himself stumbling backwards away from Boromir in fright as the man cried, "It is not yours save by unhappy chance...it might have been mine. It should be mine! Give it to me! GIVE ME THE RING!"

Frodo gasped in surprise as Boromir knocked him to the ground, trying to take the Ring by force from around his neck.

"NO!" Frodo yelled, as he grappled with Boromir and with the Ring. Slipping the Ring onto his finger, Frodo vanished from Boromir's sight. Frodo gave the Man a parting blow before hurrying as quickly as possible in the opposite direction.

Frodo knew Boromir was unable to see him, yet Frodo heard him yelling, "I see your mind. YOU WOULD TAKE THE RING TO SAURON! YOU WOULD BETRAY US! You go to your death…AND THE DEATH OF US ALL! CURSE YOU! CURSE YOU AND YOUR HALFLINGS!"

After a few moments, already well away from the Man, Frodo could hear Boromir yell, even louder still, "FRODO! I'M SORRY!" But the Man's voice could scarcely be registered fully while Frodo was within the twilight world of the Ring. Trees and rocks raced by him like shadowy specters. Running up the stairs of the ancient Seat of Seeing, Frodo found himself crouching behind a stone horse and rider. He peeked over the edge and was startled to see not Boromir, but the tower of Barad-Dur suddenly rushing towards him. Face to face with the lidless eye of Sauron, Frodo stumbled backwards in fear and surprise, trying hard to rip the Ring from his finger.

With a jolt of terror, Frodo fell off the seat and down to the ground below. For a moment, he lay there, gasping and disoriented, both pleased and confused to be back in Amon Hen.

A sudden footfall behind him made Frodo jump.

"Frodo?" Aragorn asked.

"It has taken Boromir," Frodo said, still catching his breath, slightly in shock.

Looking suddenly terrified, Aragorn approached Frodo and asked urgently, "Where is the Ring?"

Still leery from his scuffle with Boromir, Frodo found himself scrambling away from Aragorn. "Stay away!" he yelled, frightened.

"Frodo!" Aragorn called, looking shocked. He held his hands up placatingly. "I swore to protect you."

"Can you protect me from yourself?" Frodo asked. He felt a desperate need to ask the question, yet he hated himself for having to ask it.

When Aragorn did not answer, Frodo slowly opened his hand to reveal within it the Ring. "Would _you_ destroy it?"

He could see Aragorn come under the spell of the Ring, his eyes staring intently at it. Aragorn closed the distance between them, still staring. The Ring quietly called, "Aragorn!"

Aragorn reached for the Ring. Frodo looked between the Man and Ring, fear knotting his stomach. He knew that nothing out in the woods would stand between Aragorn and the Ring, should he truly want to take it. He knew he was no match for the Ranger.

The Man knelt before Frodo, his hands covering Frodo's, closing his palm and hiding the Ring from sight. He looked intently into the Hobbit's eyes and said, "I would have come with you to the very end. Unto the very fires of Mordor." He pushed Frodo's hands and Ring back toward Frodo's chest.

A sense of relief washed over Frodo, knowing that the Ring had not been able to trick Aragorn. Yet, at the same time, he felt an immense sense of sadness as he realized that he would undertake this most dangerous journey alone. "I know…," he acknowledged, "Look after the others. Especially Sam….he will not understand."

Aragorn nodded, his eyes looking downward. Frodo saw a crease in his brow as he abruptly stood, drawing his sword. "Go Frodo!" he urged.


	6. Many Pathways

**Chapter 6: Many Pathways**

For a moment, Frodo stood looking at him. Partially drawing his own sword, which was glowing brightly, Frodo suddenly understood. Orcs! Frozen with shock, Frodo could only stand and stare at Aragorn.

"Run," Aragorn gestured, "RUN!"

Spurred to action by the urgency in the Man's voice, Frodo took off down the hill. Behind him he could hear the footfalls of the Orcs and the clash of steel on steel.

Running as quickly as he could down the hill, Frodo could hear Sam yelling for him desperately. "MR. FRODO!"

He had been gone from the shore far too long and surely Sam too could hear the noise of battle. But he couldn't answer. Frodo refused to be the reason that Sam should suffer and die. Boromir was right. He would bring everyone to their deaths.

Drawn by the noise of battle, Legolas, Gimli, Arya, and Beorn stumbled onto the Seat of Seeing, where Aragorn was being nearly overrun by Uruk-hai.

"Aragorn, go!" Legolas yelled.

Aragorn took off down the hill, leaving the remainder of the Uruk-hai for Gimli, Legolas, Arya, and Beorn to deal with. He had to ensure that Frodo remained safe. He knew he had to delay the other Uruk-hai by using himself as a distraction.

Hearing that the Orcs were catching up, Frodo hid behind a tree. Attempting to make himself as small as possible, he was terrified to realize as they ran by that these were not Orc, but rather Uruk-hai. He pressed himself tightly into the bark of the tree, hoping by sheer force of will that he could encourage them not to notice him. The Uruk-hai ran blindly past him, seemingly oblivious to his presence.

A brown mop of shaggy hair appeared from a fallen tree trunk on the opposite side of the path. Frodo didn't even notice until Merry called quietly, but urgently, "Frodo!" Popping up next to Merry, Pippin whispered, "Hide here, quick! C'mon!"

A Frodo's hesitation, Pippin looked at Merry and said, "What's he doin'?!"

Seeing the look in Frodo's eye and the shake of his head, with a moment of stunning clarity, Merry understood. "He's leaving," he said, simply.

Angry at his cousin's decision, Pippin growled, "NO!" He leapt from the tree trunk without thinking. Merry followed, trying to pull his cousin back before any of the Uruk-hai saw. To their dismay it seemed that nearly every Uruk-hai within seeing distance had suddenly oriented towards them. Sensing an opportunity to help his eldest cousin, Merry looked seriously at him and said, "Run Frodo. Go."

Frodo took off running once again and heard Merry and Pippin yelling, "Hey! Hey you! Over here!" as they ran off in the opposite direction.

Coming to a bridge, Pippin and Merry were startled to realize that Uruk-hai were both behind and in front of them. Seeing no way out, they stood stunned for a moment, until Boromir leapt out of nowhere in front of them. Spurred on by his actions, Pippin and Merry began attacking the coming Uruk-hai with their swords.

Realizing that they were overwhelmed, Boromir drew out the Horn of Gondor and blew several short blasts on it. Herding Pippin and Merry back as far as he could, he blew again on the horn. All three did their best fighting off the Uruk-hai that arrived, yet they could see dozens more pouring over the hill and down towards them.

Kept back behind Boromir, Pippin and Merry could only throw stones to defend themselves. Yet they knew that there were more Uruk-hai than they could handle on their own. Pippin saw an Uruk-hai crest the top of the hill. It was bigger than the others. It wasn't wearing armour and it bore a white handprint on its face. Yet, he had no time to call Boromir's name. In the time it had taken Pippin to register that there was something different about this Uruk-hai, it had drawn its bow and shot Boromir.

The Man staggered back, a look of utter surprise on his face, with an arrow protruding from his chest. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath. But mere moments later, a sudden surge of ferocity forced him back up off his knees and back into battle. Boromir attacked the Uruk-hai around him with an almost superhuman strength. But he was sent staggering as he turned and received a second arrow – this time to the stomach.

Falling to his knees again, Merry and Pippin could see his shocked, pale face, his gasping breath, and the blood dripping from his wounds. For a moment, Merry and Pippin could do nothing but stare at the wounded man who knelt before them, gasping and shaking. Yet he didn't allow them a long time to look. With a scream of rage, he lurched to his feet, fighting off several more Uruk-hai until he was jerked forcefully backwards by a third blow. Another arrow protruded from his chest.

Realizing that their friend had given his last, Pippin and Merry grabbed up their swords and with a battle cry, charged towards the Uruk-hai, intending to fight them away from Boromir. Yet rather than trying to fight, the two Hobbits were grabbed up by the first Uruk-hai they met, who threw them over their shoulders and dragged them away from Boromir.

Reaching the crest of the hill, Arya, Beorn, and Aragorn came upon a horrific scene: the forest floor covered with the bodies of Uruk-hai, Boromir kneeling on the ground, multiple arrows protruding viciously from his chest, and a large Uruk-hai standing before him, clearly intending to finalize Boromir's death with his own arrow.

Aragorn ran down the hill, bodily knocking the much large Uruk-hai over. The arrow went wide and both Uruk-hai and Man tumbled down the hill. Legolas, Gimli, Arya, and Beorn spread out, ensuring that the rest of the hill was clear of Uruk-hai.

Seeing that the area was clear for the moment, Arya and Beorn rushed back to the glenn where Boromir knelt just in time to see Aragorn chop off the Uruk-hai's right arm, stab him through the stomach, and then behead him.

The two stood rooted to the spot for a moment until Aragorn's limping run to Boromir broken the spell.

Though Boromir had never been kind to them, the two were moved by Boromir's apparent bravery. Boromir had fallen fully to the ground and lay there, his face an ashy gray. They moved to stand a few feet behind Aragorn.

"They took the little ones!" Boromir yelled, in a shaky voice.

"Be still," Aragorn whispered, eyeing his wounds.

Yet Boromir could not be distracted. "Frodo! Where is Frodo?" Boromir asked, growing more anxious.

Aragorn whispered, "I let Frodo go."

"Then you did what I could not," Boromir confessed, his breathing ragged. "I tried to take the Ring from him," he said, pulling Aragorn closer. Arya sharply drew in a breath at the thought.

Aragorn shook his head and said, "The Ring is beyond our reach now."

Breath hitching, Boromir apologized, "Forgive me. I did not see. I have failed you all."

"_No_," Aragorn urged, "You fought bravely. You have kept your honor."

Arya could see that Aragorn was moving to bandage Boromir's wounds, yet the Gondorian stayed his hand. "Leave it! It is over."

He swallowed, blood trickling from his mouth. "The world of Men will fall and all will come to darkness and my city to ruin. Aragorn…"

With a sudden surge of strength, Boromir grabbed Aragorn's shoulder in a gesture of brotherhood. Aragorn said firmly, "I do not know what strength is in my blood. But I swear to you…I will not let the White City fall nor our people fail."

"Our people…." Boromir was gasping for breath, each one clearly an effort. Boromir held out his hand next to his sword. Aragorn helped him put it against his chest.

Legolas and Gimli suddenly approached from behind, having finished their own reconnaissance of the surrounding area. Beorn held up a hand and the two held back, looking over anxiously at Boromir.

"I would have followed you, my brother. My _captain_. My _king_."

With one last gasp of breath, Boromir suddenly grew still. His eyes darkened and his lifeless gaze stared up at the sky.

With a heavy sigh, Aragorn sent up a short prayer. He leaned forward, whispered, "Be at peace, Son of Gondor", and kissed Boromir's forehead.

Standing, Aragorn said, "They will look for his coming from the White Tower, but he will not return."

It seemed a shame for anyone to die in the manner Boromir did. Arya found herself wishing that she had known the Man better – if only so that she could say some kind words about his brave spirit or his strength of command. She had known too many good people who had died alone on the field of battle.

Frodo stood by the edge of the water. He knew he should be moving – as far and fast away from the Uruk-hai and the Fellowship as he could manage. Yet he found he could scarcely summon the energy to think, let alone move. A profound sadness gripped him. Suddenly, his aloneness felt almost oppressive.

Feeling a tear slipping down his cheek, Frodo thought, _I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened. _

From deep within the wells of his memory came a response. From what seemed ages ago, Frodo recalled Gandalf gently saying, "So do _all_ who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All that you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to you."

Unexpected resolve rising within him with the memory of this sage advice from an old friend, Frodo pushed the canoe into the lake, taking off. Frodo could hear Sam emerge from the forest behind him yelling, "FRODO! FRODO, NO!"

Boromir had been right. He couldn't allow this quest to claim Sam's life. He continued paddling. He turned when he heard Sam splashing into the river behind him. "Go back, Sam! I'm going to Mordor alone!"

"Of course you are!" Sam yelled back, pushing even deeper into the water. "And I'm coming with you!"

Panicking, Frodo yelled, "YOU CAN'T SWIM! SAM!"

Reaching the water deeper than where he could walk, Sam struggled to tread water. He was clearly fighting a losing battle.

Turning the canoe around and back to Sam, Frodo saw the Hobbit disappear under the water. "SAM!" he yelled.

Sam struggled, reaching for the surface, yet his cloak and sword weighed him down. He could see the lights of the sun above him refracting in the water. Running out of air, Sam's eyes began to close. He began to feel as though he'd float away into the beams of sunlight, when a hand closed around his and he was pulled abruptly from the water.

Coughing and spitting, he found himself inside the canoe with Frodo. Water streaming from his hair and clothes he said, "I made a promise. 'Don't you leave him, Samwise Gamgee.' And I don't mean to."

Overcome with thankfulness at the realization that not even his final journey would be made alone, Frodo hugged his friend tightly. They stayed that way for a moment, taking comfort from each other.

"Come on then," said Frodo and the two paddled off across the lake.

Racing to the edge of the river, Arya and Beorn arrived just in time to see Frodo and Sam dock on the other side.

"Hurry!" Arya yelled to Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli who were running up behind them. "They've reached the other side!"

Yet Aragorn didn't seem to be interested in hurrying. Aragorn asked, "Why are you so interested in helping us?"

He didn't mean to be ungrateful. Yet he hadn't had much time to speak with either one of them, beyond the brief conversation at the fire pit that first night, which Frodo had interrupted. Why should they care?

Beorn looked as though he might speak, but seemed unsure how to best respond. Arya too looked lost for a moment and then she said simply, "Gandalf knew, I think, that one day he would need our help. He made us promise that we do whatever was in our power to do in order to help him. Since he has sent you to us and since he cannot be here himself –"

She faltered for a moment, an expression of deep sadness crossing her face. She cleared her throat and said, "Since he cannot be here himself, we know our duty has fallen to help you instead. We are not stupid, Aragorn. We know what Frodo carries. And we also know what must be done with it. If this is the lot that Gandalf would have us cast ourselves in with, then we accept that."

"But why?" Legolas asked, stepping forward.

Her thoughts turned inward for a moment. In her place, Beorn said simply, "Gandalf has done great things for us. Things which we can never hope to repay. If this task does, in some small part, repay what he has done for us, then we will die knowing that we have done as he would have wanted."

Seemingly oblivious to the conversation, Gimli said forlornly, "It has all been in vain. The Fellowship has failed." He was staring across the shore where Sam and Frodo had disembarked. Now there was only empty forest.

Aragorn reached out and put a hand on Gimli's shoulder. "What if we hold true to each other? We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left. Leave all that can be spared behind."

Exchanging a glance, Arya and Beorn moved towards Aragorn.

"War is coming," Arya said. "Aragorn, we can help you better if we go and gather our allies. They are spread out and hard to find. But those we bring can be of great aid in the times ahead." From out of the woods behind them, the two wolves that had brought them to the shore, Sylveria and Renn, came silently. Their jaws were black with dried Uruk-hai blood.

Aragorn nodded. Hand in a fist over her heart, Arya said, "We will not abandon you. Nor will we fail to fulfill our obligations to Gandalf. We will gather our forces and meet with you."

She turned to Gimli and Legolas, bowed, and said, "I wish you luck." Beorn nodded at them. Without a word, each mounted a wolf like it was a horse. With the riders leaning low, the group vanished into the trees.


	7. Many Paths Converge

**Chapter 7: Many Paths Converge**

The wolves ran fast and hard, scarcely stopping for a break. Arya found herself strangely detached from the situation. Dozens of Uruk-hai bodies littered the forest floor, a sad reminder of what had just happened – Boromir gone, Pippin and Merry lost, and Frodo and Sam separated from the Fellowship. Pippin and Merry were lucky enough to have three very capable rescuers heading after them. But Frodo and Sam…there could be no rescue for them. Arya wondered if she would ever again see that bright spirit. Underneath the weariness of the Ring, she could tell that Frodo was a singular individual – bright, kind, determined, clever, protective of his family…and handsome.

_Handsome?_ She thought to herself. _Where did that come from?_ She knew there were more pressing things to be thinking about at the moment, but her mind kept drifting back to dark curls, baby blue eyes, small pointed ears, and fine, almost Elvish facial features. _Nonsense,_ she thought, _He wouldn't be interested in you._

Finally, the wolves reached their destination – the shore of Nen Hithoel, the great foggy lake along the Anduin. Another cache of canoes were hidden among the trees here and it would be far faster to travel by boat in this region. Pulling a single canoe from the tree, Arya and Beorn prepared to push off down the river. Turning to the panting wolves, Arya said, "Renn, Sylveria, many thanks for your help. Yet I am afraid that I must ask more of you still. Head towards Ered Nimrais, the White Mountains, and gather our allies that reside there. They have not been seen in many years and may be hard to find, but we must locate as many as we can. You know that the events which surround us are bigger than all of us. If we too wish to survive, we must act quickly. Meanwhile, we head upstream to the Mountains of Mirkwood. Be well!"

Renn put his ears back, his golden eyes flashing, and in the blink of an eye, the two wolves had vanished. Pushing their canoe into the Anduin, Arya and Beorn were both silent. They knew it would be a long journey – roughly four days from Nen Hithoel to the Mountains of Mirkwood.

They paddled in silence for a time until they reached the Argonath. The great stone kings towered stories above their canoe, making the two feel quite tiny. _Imagine how a Hobbit must feel here!_ Arya wondered.

"We've entered the northern border of Gondor," Beorn murmured, half to himself. When Arya said nothing, Beorn asked, "Is something the matter?"

Far off look in her eyes, Arya replied, "I was just wondering if Isildur and Anarion ever grow lonely out here, standing all these thousands of years by the river,"

Beorn smiled and answered, "I suppose sometimes. But what sort of kings would they be if they abandoned their posts?"

Laughing, Arya said, "I suppose you must be right!"

After awhile, their conversation died down as the two focused their effort on covering as much ground as possible. Arya began to notice that the area surrounding their boat was always quiet. Almost unnaturally quiet. All that could be heard was the rise and fall through the water of their paddles and the whistling of the wind.

"It would almost seem as though all life in the forest has fled," Arya said, eyeing the shore uneasily.

Beorn shrugged and said, "We've seen similar things happening in our own forest. The darkness is moving. The animals can sense it. They hide under ground. Or run away to places where they can feel that the Shadow is not so great."

For a moment, Arya was silent for a moment and then said quietly, "I don't know why…but it makes me sad. Not even a bird or a cricket for some cheerful noise?"

"The forest has lost much of its charm in the last few months as the Shadow has grown," Beorn agreed. "Is it any wonder why Pippin questioned our living in the forest?"

Arya smiled, remembering Merry's look of shock at his younger cousin's behavior. Suddenly sobering she said, "I do hope they're still alive."

Beorn said nothing, his mouth a grim line.

In the distance ahead of them, the river which was normally so straight, made a great arc to the right. Nodding towards it, Beorn muttered, "The South Undeep."

This was the one place where the great Anduin was neither deep nor straight. The river grew wide and full of shoals and small islands. Diverting from its straight path some thirty miles, the North and South Undeeps were not a place to be sailing through as dusk fell. It was easy enough to run aground in daylight, let alone in the dark.

Eyeing the sun in the sky, Arya said, "We can make it through the South Undeep before nightfall. But the North Undeep will have to wait until tomorrow. It's not safe to try for more."

Knowing she was speaking the truth, Beorn nodded. As the sun lowered in the sky, Arya and Beorn followed the Anduin through a lazy curve right and then left. Snaking back to the right, the two reached the farthest point off the Anduin's straight course, which marked the ending of the South Undeep and the beginning of the North Undeep.

"We should stop," Beorn commented. "But which side is safer?"

To the right lay the Brown Lands – a land of long, formless slopes. The very earth seemed withered somehow, with neither trees nor grass. No one that the two had come across in their travels knew why the area was so desolate.

To the left lay Eastemnet, the easternmost land of Rohan. The area had few permanent settlements and was home to many nomadic herdsman of the Rohirrim.

"Take the left bank," Arya said. "I would feel safer with the chance that we meet some Rohirrim over the empty wastelands of the Brown Lands. There's something not right about that place."

The night passed slowly for Arya. Her body was tired, but her mind was buzzing. She couldn't stop wondering. What had happened to poor Frodo and Sam? And poor Merry and Pippin – taken by Uruk-hai? It was more than she could bear to think about. Yet, it would seem that Beorn had no such issues, for she could hear the soft burr of his breath. The two had known each other since childhood and she could always tell when he was pretending about anything – even sleeping. Clearly, the events of the day had left him exhausted.

Eventually, her mind relented a little and she found herself drifting to sleep. Her sleep was fitful. When she woke, she couldn't remember exactly what she had dreamt but she knew it involved shrieking Hobbits, pitiless and alone, unarmed, against armies of black shadows.

If Beorn noticed her storm cloud mood, he chose to ignore it. Their journey began before the sun had even properly risen. They glided carefully through the shallow and rocky North Undeep, first left and then right and then left again. Soon, they found themselves through the Undeeps to the place where the Anduin ran straight once again, near the Field of Celebrant.

As the run rose in the sky, the two paddled quickly and quietly, stopping only briefly for a small meal of dried meats, crusty bread, and some sips of water. Their travels eventually lead them to the edge of Lothlorien and Arya found her thoughts drifting.

_How strange. But a few days before the Fellowship found haven here. And before that…Gandalf yet lived. _She felt a deep sadness consume her. Tears pricked her eyes as she considered her old friend. The two had known Gandalf for many years and he had stood by them through many trials, even knowing the full truth about them – and that was not something to be accepted lightly. She only hoped that their past actions and future service towards the Fellowship and their cause could help to repay the debt they owed to him.

She was roused from her black thoughts when Beorn gave a small grumble. She turned to look at him and he wordlessly gestured to the right. To their left still lay Lothlorien, but now to their right lay Mirkwood.

"Amon Lanc," Beorn muttered, looking darkly towards the approaching forest.

"Amon Lanc it is no longer," said Arya, squinting to catch a glimpse of the tall, spindly tower. "Now it has become Dol Guldur, the Hill of Sorcery…stronghold of Sauron!" She glared and spit into the river as though the very sight of the woods had personally offended her.

"I shall feel better the sooner we have reached our destination and left this place behind," Beorn growled. Arya nodded and the two rowed faster. With the air of darkness driving them to move ever faster, their trip down the Anduin passed quickly.

After an hour they passed Rhosgobel, former home of the Maia Radagast the Brown. And shortly after that they passed Gladden Fields. Again, they both felt a sense of unease. "The One Ring had lain here for a long time," Beorn offered, looking contemplatively at the marsh lands to the left of the Anduin.

Arya nodded, then offered back, "I wonder…does Isildur's spirit still live here?" She shuddered at the thought and paddled even faster.

Soon enough, the pair reached the Old Ford, the site where the Old Forest Road had once crossed the Anduin – though it had been years since the bridge had existed. Pulling up to the shore, Beorn and Arya hid the boat up in the branches of a tree and prepared to make the rest of the journey on foot.

They approached the Mountains of Mirkwood by the Old Forest Road. It was clear that not many traveled this road any longer. As they approached, the shadow grew.

"I do not like this," Beorn muttered, his eyes glancing around them, "This place has fallen into shadow."

Arya nodded and said, "I know. But you know the others will be here."

Beorn merely pursed his lips. The journey into the mountains was tense. They could feel all manner of foul creatures nearby. But after living in the forest much of their lives, they were capable of being as silent as shadows and as invisible as the wind. Soon, they found the place they sought.

Deep within the mountains, they found the others. A secretive, small group of men and women. For a time, Beorn and Arya took turns speaking to them, explaining to them that the great war for the One Ring was upon them and that if they wished to survive, they must do their part to fight.

Some argued, grumbling that they hardly had a place among the cities of men, dwarves, and elves. Yet eventually they were convinced that the shadow would find and consume all of them if Sauron was not defeated. Arya told them of the Ring. Of its voice – soft and treacherous, promising everything, but delivering nothing, seeking only to return to its master. An agreement was reached by the group and they set forth from their home with Beorn and Arya, leaving behind only the women and those too old or young to fight.

Though there were more of them, the trip back down the Mountains of Mirkwood was quiet. The others had lived in the mountain for years and knew it intimately. If Beorn and Arya's approach had been hushed, then their departure was absolutely silent.

Returning to their boat on the Anduin, Arya turned to the others and said, "We must make for Isengard. Those Uruk-hai bore the White Hand of Saruman…and that wizard has long been using Orthanc for his own sinister devices. It seems likely that they have taken the Hobbits Merry and Pippin there. As the rest of the Fellowship was chasing the Hobbits down when last we parted, it seems likely that we can meet with them there and find our next course of action."

However, the others were not fond of traveling in exposed areas, having lived for so long in the dark and quiet of the mountains. Beorn proposed that the others travel through the forest of Mirkwood, briefing crossing the Anduin to head through the woods of Lothlorien and then into the Misty Mountains. Given that this option provided the most cover for them and given that the Misty Mountains would lead them right to Isengard at its tip, the others agreed and set off through the forest at an astonishing pace.

Pulling their boat from the branches, Beorn and Arya set off once again back along the Anduin. The journey was quiet and was overshadowed by a sense of anxiety and urgency to reunite with the remainder of the Fellowship. The two eventually returned to the South Undeep and again hid their boat in a tree, judging the route over land to be far faster than sailing down to the Argonath and then cutting across land.

Crossing the Eastemnet, they happened upon a tribe of nomadic Rohirrim and with some bargaining, a few supplies, and some luck were able to obtain two horses to speed up their travel. Racing across the Entwash with the help of the ford Entwade, the pair soon found themselves in Westemnet approaching the Gap of Rohan.

Galloping through the Gap of Rohan with their two horses, Arroch and Felarof, Arya found her thoughts once again troubled. What if her suspicions were wrong? What if the Uruk-hai had gone somewhere else? What if they couldn't find the Fellowship again?

"What about Sylveria and Renn?" Beorn interrupted. "What about the others they were supposed to find? We are not far from the White Mountains. It would take but a day or so for us to know if they were successful in their quest. And I sense in my heart that the Fellowship has not yet come to this place."

Arya couldn't help but agree. She knew eventually they would be drawn to Isegard. For Mordor couldn't be dealt with while this stronghold of Sauron yet stood. But something felt…wrong. As the two had slowed their horses to talk, a shadow had melted from the edge of the mountain range.

Beorn glanced purposefully toward the mountain. The shadow seemed reluctant to come too far from the darkness and safety of the mountain. They could tell it was one of the others from Mirkwood that they had intended to meet up with before heading into Isengard.

Walking slowly over to the shadow, they could tell that it had something urgent to tell them. The dirty, hunched over man before them looked anxiously between the two before speaking, "The ones you want are not here. The dark wizard is still strong here. It would be unwise to challenge him alone."

Arya nodded and said, "The others have not yet come. But we have another task before us. I sent Sylveria and Renn ahead of us to gather our friends in the White Mountains. We should meet with them and ensure that as many as possible have been found."

"Perhaps…" the dirty man said, looking this way and that, "it would be wise to keep the rest of us here. We could keep watch on Isengard and the Gap of Rohan. When you return, we would have knowledge of all those who had moved through this land."

Though the two knew that the man was simply trying to avoid having to travel once again, they could not deny that the others could provide some useful information were they to stay and watch the Gap of Rohan.

"Very well," Beorn said. "Inform the others of their task. We shall go alone. See that you have the information that we need once we return."

Galloping with Arroch and Felarof, they rode down the Old Road and then across the River Isen. Within a few hours, they had crossed the Adorn and found themselves at the foot of the White Mountains.

Staring up at the mountains before them, Beorn quietly uttered, "They could be anywhere."

Arya nodded and cupped her hands around her mouth, letting loose a wolf-like howl. It echoed around the cliffs of the mountain, reverberating over and over. After some moments, the sound dissipated. For a time, there was silence. Just as they were beginning to lose hope of finding Sylveria and Renn, the shrill call was returned. Though the mountains could easily distort a sound, it seemed that the call had not come from far away.

The two wolves soon materialized out of the forest. Arya dismounted and knelt, embracing first one and then the other. "What news?" she asked, looking expectantly from one to the other.

Golden eyes turned to look backwards and within the woods, she could see the shadows of a great many. A grin lighting her face, Arya turned to Beorn and saw him smiling too.

"We must move." Arya announced. "We have gathered the others from Mountains of Mirkwood. They wait at the foot of the Misty Mountains near Isengard, watching the Gap of Rohan for any news of the travelers we seek."

One shadow moved down from the woods. Arya recognized him. He walked slowly towards them as though the long periods of time between their meetings had made him wary of their sudden appearance. He stopped a few feet away.

Arya closed the gap between them and greeted him warmly. "Daeron, my friend, it has been too long."

Daeron smiled and greeted both of them warmly. "My apologies for my hesitation. It has been moons since last we met and the world is changing. The darkness spreads. No one can be trusted too readily."

Arya nodded, mouth set grimly. "Exactly. The Shadow moves. And the chance has arisen that the Ring of Power may yet be destroyed. We must do what we can to help in its destruction. Before long, Sauron will strike Middle Earth. We must be there to fight if we wish to survive."

Daeron regarded her for a moment before he said, "We have seen the ones you search for. The man, the elf, and the dwarf were headed to Edoras when last we heard of them. They traveled with a white wizard."

"A wizard?" Beorn asked, exchanging a puzzled glance with Arya. Gandalf had fallen into shadow in Moria. What other wizard had Aragorn and the others found?

A terrifying thought entered Arya's mind as she asked, "A white wizard? …Surely it was not Saruman!"

Daeron shook his head, his black mop of hair flopping. "No, not one with the shadow." It looked as though Beorn would interrupt him, so Daeron held up a placating hand and said, "I can tell you no more about this. I know only that it is not Saruman…Edoras does not fare well. The land has fallen into shadow and has come under the control of Saurman. Perhaps the wizard thought the people of Edoras could be helped?"

Arya shrugged. "Whatever the reason for their destination, Beorn and I must meet back up with the others to let them know that we have gathered some of our forces together."

Daeron smiled. "Whatever the reason for your meeting with them, you will not arrive at Edoras through the White Mountains. None with sense travel the Paths of the Dead."

Arya smiled and turned to the two horses waiting behind them. "It is no matter, Arroch and Felarof will see us to Edoras around the edge of the mountains. In the meantime, Daeron, can I trust you to guide those here to the edge of the Misty Mountains where the others wait?"

Daeron smiled. It was clearly an action that he did not perform often enough. "I shall gather our friends together. We shall wait near Isengard until you return and have need of us."

Beorn grabbed Daeron's shoulder in a gesture of brotherly affection and appreciation. Daeron nodded to both Arya and Beorn before he waved them away.

"Go," he said. "Find the ones you seek. Return to us soon."

As the two mounted their horses, he disappeared back into the forest. As they turned and began to ride away, Arya heard him call lightly, "Watch out for each other!"

The journey around the hills of the Misty Mountains, though it took three days, flew by. Arya's thoughts were consumed with worries about the others. What would happen to them if King Theoden really _was_ under the thumb of Saruman? And who _was_ this strange white wizard?

The pair rounded the final corner of the mountains and they could see Helm's Deep from a distance. "The stronghold," Beorn said, eyeing the stone fortress.

"Come," Arya said, nudging Felarof into a gallop. We are not far from Edoras now."

They could not have been galloping for more than ten minutes when they saw, coming from ahead, a large mass of people. Old ones, women, and children. Frightened and screaming. A woman with golden hair stood out in the middle of the pack.

Arya and Beorn hid behind some rocks, not wanting to scare the already frightened group. The golden haired woman yelled, "Make for Helm's Deep!" and the pace of the crowd quickened.

Watching them pour towards Helm's Deep, Beorn muttered, "Only the Rohirrim would use that fortress. Look at their numbers. Edoras has emptied."

"But why?" Arya asked, squinting off in the direction they had come. "And what were they running from?"

"Whatever it is, it was not good," Beorn said, glancing at the retreating backs of the crowd. "The king was not with them. Nor were any men of fighting age. They were attacked."

"Aragorn went to Edoras with a wizard to see the king. A king who had fallen under shadow. Now the people have left Edoras and are heading for Helm's Deep. Whatever has befallen these people, you can bet that Aragorn and the others will be involved."

Beorn nodded and the two galloped off in the direction that the crowd had come from. In short order, they could hear the noises of battle: the screams of dying men, the clash of swords, and a strange, inhuman squealing.

The two exchanged a look before Arya scowled and said, "Wargs!"


End file.
